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An apology is in order. It is obvious there hasn't been a Public Serf post in about a week. Both of you ask why. So I'll tell you. My fragile psyche was bummed. It's true, it's true.

What's in the CD player: The Monkees
There I was- checking out other blogs, going from blogger to blogger and every stinking one wrote better than I do. I could only dream of being so witty or knowledgeable. Suddenly I felt like a clown who wasn't funny, or an essayist who was a bore, neither should be seen nor read. Writing was enjoyable, but it suddenly seemed so useless. Wanted to write. Couldn't write. I was conflicted, and depressed.

But you want it, so here goes.

In the news: Richard Chamberlain has outed himself. http://entertainment.msn.com/news/article.aspx?news=123941 TV 05/31
On a side note, if I had any idea how to make that link effective by clicking on his name I'd do it. Don't know how, can't.
Back to Richard. I like him. Always have. Envied him on Dr. Kildare for being so cool, envied him in the Three Musketeers because he got to work with Oliver Reed. Perhaps you remember the particular scene that imbedded itself in my gray matter- they find Oliver Reed sitting on a sidewalk, leaning back against a building, and at hand is a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread. You knew that life couldn't get much better than being there. Drinking wine, eating bread, listening to his stories. What a way to spend an afternoon. What a guy.

Back to Richard... again. So he's "out." It certainly takes some courage to make an announcement like that. But it hardly seemed necessary, even I knew he was gay. Since I'm always the last to know anything it seems safe to assume the only one he surprised were the cloistered Nuns at the Our Blessed Lady of the Impassable Walls Convent deep in the heart of Tibet. Which, is to say, again, just in case you're having trouble staying awake, that it seemed a poorly kept secret.

And as long as I'm digressing all over the place- here's another movie scene, this one a bitch. The scene in the Indiana Jones flick where he has to pick which cup is the Holy Grail. He picks the plainest one and declares, "This is the cup of a carpenter." Nice thought, but totally irrelevant. Christ didn't own anything but the clothes on his back. He certainly didn't walk around with a large chalice like a soap-on-a-rope dangling from his waist. It clearly says in the Bible that when they reached Jerusalem the room for the Last Supper had been prepared for them in advance, Matthew 26. It was somebody else's chalice. It could have looked as plain as a "carpenter's cup" or it could have looked like the Lady of the House spent too much time shopping on QVC. It could have been encrusted with Brilliantes or Diamoniques. There's just no way to know. What you do know is- there is no bitch too petty to inflict on you.

Back to Richard. Oh, let's not, he needs a rest. I know, how about Michael Jackson? Yeah, yeah, here we..eeee go.
http://www.msnbc.com/news/917781.asp May 23, Music News
According to this Jacko is having financial problems. His album sales have sagged, his spending has not. What with lawsuit settlements, the high price of surgical mutilation, and artificial insemination it's somewhat understandable. That last one shocks you? Oh please, is there a human being alive who can imagine Jackson knowing a woman in the, ah hem, Biblical Way? Or any human being for that matter. He can write lyrics all day, but that's one verb he cannot conjugate.


When it was first announced he was an expectant daddy, was I the only one who suspected that conception required his white glove and a turkey baster? Okay, the turkey baster would be too big. Syringe? Still too big. Eyedropper? Hey, let's leave him some dignity. An eyedropper it is. There's a temptation to get into some really vulgar scenarios right here. Can't bring myself to do it. You have fun and tell me all about it.

I don't like how he named his kids either. Named them both "Prince." As though being the self-proclaimed King of Pop his kids are automatically Princes. It might even be worse than being one of George Foreman's "George" kids....... Yeah, it is worse. Foreman has never been stupid enough to dangle his kid over a guardrail. Foreman has taken brain-damaging hits from the best and he still thinks clearer that Jacko.

And another thing, what's with the surgical masks on the kids? Is it really possible the kids are going to wander away and be lured into a strange man's car who recognizes them? Who will take them back to his mysterious place, where he will entertain them with videos, before going nightey-night with them. Just another day in Neverland.

Or maybe the masks are because Jacko is already having their noses cut so small they'll be mouth breathers. You know, plastic surgery as a bonding thing. Oh look, they're all bleached and mutilated just like their daddy! Just look at 'em, you can really tell they came from his eyedropper. It's so sweet.

I'll Bennett that when the kids grow up they change their names. Then they'll be referred to as..... 'The Kids Formerly Known As Prince.' Don't groan, you knew it was coming.

You say, How can you say that? Aren't you scared he'll sue you to a lower level of serfdom? No, I'm feeling Bennett, I'm willing to bet he can't afford an attorney willing to sue me. There's no money in pro bono work. Let's be real, he's never going to know about this anyway. I'm not sending it to his fan club, they aren't going to read it, he doesn't need to read it.

What Jacko does need is somebody with the cajones to say, "thees is no bien Miguel."

And a cheaper accountant. His financial advisors are claiming he owes them $12 million in fees and expenses, plus interest. This is insane. He hired them five years ago to help straighten out his finances, and has already paid them $3 million. His advisors would surely claim they've helped. Like a bill for $12 million more and finances on the brink of bankruptcy. Thanks a lot. Pleasure doing business with you. Worked for Enron too? His financial advisors are South Korean. Moon probably had the mass wedding to end all mass weddings. This pahty on Michael, we down with that.

Moon hasn't been in the news lately. Maybe he's recovering from a nose job. And a skin bleaching. He does have the money to sue me to lower serfdom. But I don't care, I'm feeling Bennett.

A $12 million accounting bill. Yowza, it's just unbelievable. Perhaps Jacko's problem is that he overpays his help, his maid probably moved into a gated neighborhood and has her own maid. For a flat one million dollars I'll write checks for eight hours a day for the rest of my life. Balance the checkbook everyday, and tell him, "Michael, you can't buy gold monkey bars for the monkeys. It's sweet that you want to, but the monkeys don't care. They just want a banana. If you keep spending like this you're going to wind up living with a bunch of nuns in Tibet." But he, the nuns, and little boys would be safe.

I don't write for a week and you get this?

Publicserf


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